


follow me to the flower fields

by woobot (lu_woo)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Hanasakibyou Disease, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Romance, Smut, Tragedy, very tiny implied mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29803461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lu_woo/pseuds/woobot
Summary: The first flower blooms in the morning.The final flowers bloom in the evening of a summer day as the sun begins to set while jungwoo stands in the flower field behind his house, doyoung's arms around him.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Kim Jungwoo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	follow me to the flower fields

**Author's Note:**

> ❀ hanasakibyou disease - _a disease where flowers bloom out of a person's body_

The first flower comes in the morning. 

A morning that wakes Jungwoo up, the sun beaming into his room and hugging the side of his face that isn’t pressed against the soft cotton sheets. It’s a morning that smells of fresh tea and spring that comes in waves from the open windows. It’s a morning that Jungwoo wakes up slowly to, one that has his legs stretching under the blankets, arm bumping against an empty side, bare of the figure that normally lays there. 

Jungwoo reaches his hands up to rub at his face, attempting to rub the sleep away, his head tilting to confirm the empty space next to him, the other pillow nicely put up how it normally is when the bed is made. An emptiness that is soon forgotten at the sound of a gentle knock on the door, the wooden door creaking open and making Jungwoo smile at the sight of the person he’s already missed in the few minutes he’s been away. 

“Morning,” Doyoung says, his fingers curled in the handle of a mug that’s steaming with what Jungwoo already knows is tea. 

“Morning,” Jungwoo repeats with a bright but sleepy smile, his arms stretching up to bump against the wall. “Have you been up for a while?” he asks sloppily, yawn breaking through his voice. 

“Long enough,” Doyoung replies in a gentle laugh. 

The other steps away from the door, making his way over to the bed. Doyoung sets the mug down on the nightstand, the ceramic clinking gently against the lamp that takes up most of the surface. Slowly, Doyoung slides back into bed, tugging down the blanket to move under, completely undoing the small attempt at making the bed while Jungwoo was still sleeping. Jungwoo doesn’t complain, only scoots closer to Doyoung, arms wrapping around him and pulling him down into a kiss. It’s gentle, no more than a set of pecks on the lips, soft hums of happiness being shared between them. Doyoung pulls away slowly, letting his cheek rest against the pillow, hand sliding up to cup at Jungwoo’s cheek, thumb brushing against the soft skin, his eyes meeting with Jungwoo’s, both of their lips curling up into smiles. 

As Jungwoo pulls his arm that’s lazily lying on Doyoung’s side, he notices a sharp pain, one that makes his nose scrunch up and his lips press together in a wince. “You okay?” Doyoung asks, concern lacing through his voice as his hand slides gently down Jungwoo’s cheek. 

“Yeah,” Jungwoo says, “Just a weird pain.” 

His arm wiggles out from under the blanket, the pain beginning to radiate along his arm as the seconds go by. When his arm is free, Jungwoo looks at the spot where the pain is coming from, a place right above the inside of his elbow. He expects to see a bruise perhaps, his body still recovering from their recent move into their home, a move that had Jungwoo sore for days and a late blooming bruise wouldn’t be surprising. Except that’s not what he sees. What he sees is a bright red spot, one that looks like the beginnings of a rash. It’s not just reddening of his skin though, Jungwoo realizes when he runs his fingers along the spot to find a bump, one that’s firm but moves as he pushes against it. 

“Bruise?” Doyoung asks, his cheek still pressed against the pillow, his fingers sliding along Jungwoo’s jaw calmly. 

Jungwoo shakes his head, his body slowly sitting up and Jungwoo can feel Doyoung’s eyes watching him, the other staying in his same position as Jungwoo changes. “It’s a bump,” Jungwoo says softly, his fingers still running back and forth over the spot, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as the pain continues. 

At the words, Doyoung shifts, his hands pushing the blanket down to pool at his waist as he sits up to join Jungwoo’s position. Doyoung hands are soft, barely moving Jungwoo’s arm at all but he can’t help but whimper out in pain, the sensation worsening even more as his arm is extended slowly. The spot is obvious, the bright red standing out against his complexion and the more Jungwoo stares at it, the more he swears the bump is becoming more prominent, almost as if it’s stretching his skin out, growing as he stares at it. 

As Doyoung reaches forward, fingers swiping delicately over the bump, Jungwoo jerks in pain, the searing feeling spreading throughout his entire arm. Doyoung is startled as well, his hands lingering in place even though Jungwoo’s arm is no longer rested against them. “Sorry,” he says, brows furrowing as their eyes meet. “Did it just start hurting this morning?” 

“Yeah,” Jungwoo breathes out shakily, “I didn’t do anything and even if I did, this is such a weird spot I-” 

Jungwoo’s words trail off into silence, his lips remaining parted as he watches the bump under his skin twitch. There’s a rush of panic that runs through Jungwoo, one that makes his body shift against the bed as he watches the bump continue to wiggle under him, as if something is trying to get out. The more he stares, the more he sees his skin stretch up, the pain becoming enough for his eyes to water and his fingers to curl up into his palm. It’s painful but Jungwoo can’t take his eyes off of it, both horrified and curious to see what the mysterious bump will do. Doyoung is the same, at least that’s what Jungwoo assumes, the other doing nothing more but staring as well, his eyes wide and hands still in the air, holding onto nothing as if he’s frozen in time. 

The skin breaks, right at the very center of the pain and it makes Jungwoo gasp out in pain. He blinks several times, trying to rid his eyes of the tears that have built up. When his vision clears, he sees the smallest bit of green poking out from his skin. That small bit of green turns into more and more green until it’s properly sticking out of Jungwoo. The green twists and twirls and as if Jungwoo is watching seasons go by, the tip swells into a bulb and seconds after it pops open, a white flower blooms out of it. The flower isn’t very big, only as big as maybe two of the pads of his fingers. The stem however, is standing tall, several inches above his skin, standing proudly like it would in a field. 

The pain is still there though it’s not as strong, not as radiant throughout his arm, it only concentrated to the spot the stem has sprouted from, the pain being accompanied by blood that has begun to trail down the sides of Jungwoo’s arm, dropping straight onto the white blanket below. Jungwoo swallows, his hand reaching out slowly to run his fingers along the flower, making sure it’s real and it isn’t a dream. Though, as his fingertips touch the petals of the flower, Jungwoo feels a heaviness in his chest, one that makes him sink down cries beginning to bubble up through his throat in realization that it isn’t a dream, a conflicted feeling of wishing it was and thankful that he isn’t crazy. The flower is there, it’s real, it having sprouted out from his skin, the pain still lingering and blood still slowly dripping onto the blanket, neither Jungwoo nor Doyoung making any movements, allowing time to pass silently. 

“Jungwoo,” Doyoung says softly, as if he’s unsure what to do. “Stay here, I’m going to get some napkins to clean you up.” All Jungwoo can do is nod his head, his eyes not moving away from the flower that’s staring back at him. 

The first flower sprouted two weeks after they moved into their new home in the countryside where fields surrounded them instead of tall city buildings. A flower that stands proudly from Jungwoo’s arm, as if it’s happy with what it’s done. 

“Unfortunately, there isn’t anything that can be done,” the doctor says, her hands holding the clipboard, manicured nails tapping quietly on the back of it. “You can try trimming the stem to a more manageable size but it will grow back.” 

“You can’t remove it?” Doyoung fights back, his voice slightly louder than it should be and Jungwoo reaches his hand over to the other, palm sliding against his thigh. 

“We could but,” the doctor sighs, “If it grows back in the same spot, it’ll be much worse and it’s possible that it won’t be able to break past the scar and get stuck.” 

“So,” Jungwoo starts, his hand twitching at the feeling of Doyoung’s hand sliding over his, their fingers intertwining slowly. “What can I do? Is there anyway to prevent more from sprouting?” 

The look on the doctor’s face is all that Jungwoo needs to get his answer. Her brows furrow and her tongue darts out to lick at her lips, hands setting the clipboard down on the counter to the side. “Mr. Kim,” she pauses, a sigh pushing past her parted lips, “There is no cure for this and once the first flower sprouts, more will continue to come. The best you can do is trim the stems and take pain medicine as needed whenever new ones sprout. Other than that,” the doctor says, her eyes meeting Jungwoo’s, “there’s nothing else you can do.” 

Jungwoo can hear Doyoung talking, he can feel him tensing up next to him, his hand twitching against his. He can see Doyoung’s free arm moving as he speaks and hears the different tones in his voice. Jungwoo squeezes his fingers around Doyoung’s in an attempt to ground himself, his vision becoming blurry with tears. Jungwoo wants to talk, wants to ask more questions but he’s scared of the answers, unsure of what they’ll be. He has an idea already, based on the answers he’s already gotten but maybe if he doesn’t ask the questions, the answer he doesn’t want to hear will never come and Jungwoo can live without knowing. Yet all he can do is stay silent, the murmuring of his husband and the doctor echoing around him, as if he’s wearing headphones except the only thing that’s playing is silence. 

“Am I going to die?” Jungwoo finally asks, his nose scrunching up in a sniffle, free hand reaching up to wipe at his eyes, fingers shakily wiping away the tears. 

“If the flowers begin to grow and sprout internally,” the doctor says and Jungwoo presses his lips together, eyes filling up with tears once again before she can even finish, “then yes,” she responds gently, “you will die.” 

“What are the chances of that happening?” Doyoung asks, his own voice becoming shaky and Jungwoo pulls his hand away slowly to come up and press against his eyes, trying to stop the tears that have already spilled onto his cheeks. 

There’s silence for what seems like hours. Silence that feels heavy, as if a thunderstorm is coming, the air thick and full of anticipation. It’s silence that once again confirms Jungwoo’s thoughts, a silence that has his chest tightening and his throat hurting, his body attempting to hold back sobs. 

“Typically a hundred percent,” she responds and Jungwoo feels the thin glass holding his cries back shatter. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kim. I know it’s not easy to hear.” 

The silence returns but back to what it was before, the sound of Doyoung talking being nothing more than a muffled collection of his voice. The cries aren’t held back, Jungwoo letting them pour out of him, his hands shakily staying pressed against his face, as if it’ll hide him from everything. As if there’s the slightest chance that this is still a dream and maybe he’ll wake up.

There’s a shift in the house, one that happened after they returned home and one that still blankets them days later. It’s a tension, one between them that Jungwoo wishes wasn’t there but understands why it is. It’s a feeling that has them both quietly looking at each other while they eat dinner, both unsure what to say. It’s been this way for days, both of them only exchanging quiet words to each other in attempts to make small talk. Most of the time it’s Doyoung, asking if Jungwoo needs anything to which Jungwoo always shakes his head, thanking Doyoung for asking and then they fall into the awkward silence again until the next time.

Their routines haven’t changed much despite the situation. Doyoung still wakes up first, even if Jungwoo has spent hours tossing and turning, Doyoung is the one to slide out of bed before Jungwoo. Tea is brought and set on the nightstand only to be forgotten about as Jungwoo finds himself in Doyoung’s arms, both of them slipping in and out of sleep until Doyoung needs to leave. Then just as before, Jungwoo is left by himself for hours while Doyoung is at work. Hours that used to be spent tidying up the house and putting away the small amount of boxes they haven’t gotten to yet. Time that Jungwoo would spend going outside, tending to the small but growing garden they started the day after they moved in, it being one of Jungwoo’s dreams to have his own garden when they got a house. That same time is spent in bed now, Jungwoo only getting up when needed and then returning right back under the covers, unable to do anything else until Doyoung returns. 

It’s an odd feeling, to have a death sentence despite feeling fine. Jungwoo doesn’t feel sick, there’s no more pain in his arm, the wound having healed around the stem that he trims everyday even if it doesn’t need it. There’s no other symptoms, no pain anywhere else, no more flowers that have sprouted. It’s the fact that he knows he’s going to die, it being confirmed by both the doctor and the amount of hours Jungwoo has spent reading about the disease, but he doesn’t know when. It could take years, the flowers choosing to sprout on the outside for a long period of time before they begin internally, or it could be tomorrow, Jungwoo doesn’t _know_.

The disease is rare, only a few hundred cases in the last century, all of them with the same result. There isn’t a reason for it to start, nothing triggers it, nothing causes it like how smoking can cause lung cancer or being out in the sun too much can cause skin problems. It’s random, completely unbiased to anyone, just choosing whoever it wants, a fact that Doyoung has had a hard time coming to terms with, whispering to Jungwoo theories of how it could have got started and how it’s his own fault that Jungwoo is sick with it. Pained whispers that Jungwoo squeezes his eyes shut for, tears being squished out of his eyes at Doyoung’s words, his own lips parting, shakily and desperately telling his husband that it’s not his fault. Doyoung only ever responds with how much he loves Jungwoo and it’s the response that Jungwoo wants but one he dreads, knowing it’s Doyoung’s way of trying to latch onto Jungwoo to not let him go, hoping his words will somehow erase the invisible timer that’s above Jungwoo’s head. 

The sun is bright as Jungwoo steps outside for the first time in days, the warmth of spring greeting him. Despite the sun hugging his skin tightly, it’s still early, the time just being after eight, the sun now fully up and ready for the day. Jungwoo makes his way down the small set of steps that lead to the front yard, the grass bright green and lush, having been freshly cut by Doyoung the day before. He lets his bare feet slide into the grass, the blades slightly wet from fresh morning dew, sending shivers along his legs, goosebumps pushing up along his skin as he takes a few steps forward to nowhere in particular. 

Jungwoo turns around, admiring their house behind him. It’s their perfect home, one they fell in love with weeks before they got married and moved into days after. It’s a home that Jungwoo swears he’s seen in movies, a quaint two bedroom home that fits the field it’s surrounded by. There’s the little things that Jungwoo always wanted in their home like a bay window and a sunroom that overlooks the backyard. It’s got a white picket fence that separates them from the road in the front, the back being completely empty, nothing shielding them from the space. The home is what the both of them had always envisioned, a home away from the city and one that has been loved and cherished before, a home that Doyoung and Jungwoo would build their own memories in, adding to the collection. 

Jungwoo would be a liar if he said it wasn’t hard to stare at his house like this, truly looking at it for the first time since his timer had begun. As he stares, he thinks about the small memories they’ve already built there, ones that will forever be in his mind. The memory of them spending their first night together in the home, both of them sleeping on the mattress that sat on the floor, the bedroom empty and waiting for their new furniture to arrive. The night they spent together, bodies intertwined and expressions of love shared between the two of them. Memories of them painting their bedroom together, paint staining their hands and how Doyoung accidentally knocked into one of the paint buckets, Jungwoo having dived down to save it only to get paint all over his arms. Memories of them seated in their backyard, picnic blanket under them and a bottle of wine next to them as they ate lunch in their new yard, both of them getting tipsy, ending with Jungwoo falling asleep on Doyoung’s chest as the spring sun lulled him to sleep. Those memories are all there and the more Jungwoo stares at their home, the more he tries to grab at even the smallest of moments, wanting to pack them safely away so he can keep a hold on them. 

“Jungwoo!” 

Doyoung’s voice echoes around him, his name being carried with the wind until it fades away. The other is walking out from the front door, his eyes full of worry as he walks towards Jungwoo. “I didn’t know you were up,” he says with a sigh, his hands reaching forward to cup at Jungwoo’s cheeks, “You scared me.” 

“Sorry,” Jungwoo says, his lips curling into the tiniest of smiles, “I wanted some fresh air.” 

Doyoung nods, his thumbs brushing against Jungwoo’s cheek, making him tilt his head into Doyoung’s touch. “Are you feeling okay?”

Jungwoo nods his head, his eyes fluttering closed as the wind brushes against his bangs. “Yeah, I’m feeling okay.” 

Doyoung’s skin is soft and even with the overwhelming smell of the morning around them, he can smell his freshly washed skin, a mixture of his soap and lotion that’s melted into his skin. His husband’s hair is still wet, droplets of water falling at a slow pace along his shirt, making the white fabric become darker as the water soakes it. Doyoung must have come right out from his shower, noticing that Jungwoo was no longer curled up in bed. 

“Are you hungry?” Doyoung asks, his voice as soft as the sun against his skin. 

“Yes,” Jungwoo admits and almost as if his body is admitting as well, his stomach growls loud enough for the both of them to hear. 

Doyoung’s lips curl into a smile at the sound, a soft laugh pushing past his lips, making Jungwoo sputter out a quiet laugh as well. “What do you want for breakfast?” 

“Anything,” Jungwoo responds, “Whatever you feel like making.” Doyoung nods, his hands sliding off of Jungwoo’s face only to land on his shoulders, squeezing them before he pulls Jungwoo towards him. Jungwoo’s arms wrap around Doyoung’s waist, allowing the other to grab him and pull him into a tight hug. Jungwoo tilts his head down, his nose burying into the fresh scent of Doyoung, his eyes fluttering closed as he lets the scent take over him. “Can we eat outside,” Jungwoo asks, his voice muffled against Doyoung’s shoulder. 

Doyoung tilts his head, his hand sliding along Jungwoo’s upper back, “We can do that. It’s a nice morning.” 

And they do. They settle down outside, their blue plaid picnic blanket spread out along the grass. Doyoung has made them simple sandwiches from their leftovers from the night previous. There’s a tray of perfectly cut sandwiches and fruits that Jungwoo had helped cut, cups of freshly squeezed juice surrounding the plates. The temperature is still chilly, the wind bringing goosebumps and shivers to both of them but the sun keeps them warm enough to not need a jacket. 

In the morning is when the second flower appears. It makes Jungwoo stop eating, a familiar pain brewing on his thigh. A pain that has him pulling his sleep shorts up, having not bothered changing, to see the bright red spot spreading out against his skin. It happens the same way as the other flower, the pain becoming searing, sending Jungwoo into tears as the flower stem pushes past his skin, the flower happily spreading its petals for Jungwoo to see. 

Jungwoo returns to work a week later. He doesn’t have to, Doyoung having told him that he should stay at home and rest. Jungwoo wants to do that, he really does, wanting nothing more than to hide away from the world for the rest of his time, leaving himself to only be with Doyoung, but he needs to go back both because he doesn’t want to abandon his students and because he needs to get out, needs to do something to distract him from all of it. He needs to do something other than sit and think about it, anticipating every moment, worried that the pain may come and it could be the end.

It’s an easy transit to the school, only taking Jungwoo a handful of minutes instead of the hour or so it would take him when they lived in the city. There’s no subway changes, no subway at all, just one short bus ride into the town and Jungwoo is there. His job is one of the reasons why they decided to move out of the city, wanting him to have an easier time getting to and from work. Now though, it almost feels too short, Jungwoo wanting more time to prepare to see everyone again. Prepare to face the thoughts that will come when he walks into the school, fully knowing his time is limited.

The flowers are taped gently to his skin, making sure they don’t stick out from under his clothes the best he can manage. Jungwoo checks himself in the bathroom mirror minutes before his class starts, his fingers running over the spots where the flowers have bloomed, making different types of movements to see if the tap will pop off. There’s the smallest of bumps from the stem bending oddly against him but it’s hidden enough that he hopes no one will notice. Jungwoo fixes his hair, making sure his bangs are perfect, taps on a bit more make up while he’s at it in attempts to hide the dark circles under his eyes. It’s not the best he’s looked but it’s the best he can do. 

His students are excited to see him, all dozen of them running up to him to give him hugs, telling him how much they missed him. Jungwoo has only been gone for about a month, using nearly all his vacation days to be able to move comfortably, but it’s the longest Jungwoo has ever been away from his students. Jungwoo takes his time, hugging each and every one of them, their little arms wrapping around him tightly. Once they get settled down, Jungwoo takes out his plans, ones he worked on the night prior. As he stares at them on his desk, Jungwoo sucks in a breath and runs his fingers through his hair slowly. 

“Mr. Jungwoo,” one of the kids says softly, “Are you okay?” 

Jungwoo swallows, feeling his throat begin to tighten up. He quickly clears his throat and nods his head, attempting to push away the tear inducing thoughts as he looks up at his room full of students. “How about today we play games instead?” 

The suggestion has all the kids gasping and yelling in excitement, making Jungwoo smile. He tucks his folder back in his bag, letting it slide down onto the floor as he walks over to the cubby full of different kinds of games. It doesn’t take long before they’re all seated on the floor, the desks pushed to the sides and out of the way. Jungwoo sits at the front, back against his desk as the others are seated in a circle around him. They play nearly a dozen games, all short and easy and Jungwoo makes sure that everyone is included and everyone gets a chance to win. 

They eat lunch that way too, Jungwoo’s legs stretched out as he works on his sandwich, nearly identical to some of the other lunches. They sit and talk, Jungwoo asking a hundred and one questions to the kids, wanting to get to know them even more than he already does, wanting to be able to connect with them as much as he can, wants to soak up the happiness that comes with his job. Much like they did when they met again, all of them share hugs on their way out, Jungwoo making sure to give each child a proper hug until there’s no more left and he’s alone in his classroom. 

Jungwoo takes his time cleaning up, putting each desk back where it belongs and sweeping up crumbs from lunch. He takes his time, knowing there isn’t anything to come home to yet, Doyoung not getting off for several more hours and he’d rather be at work than at home. Once he’s done cleaning, Jungwoo takes a moment to admire his classroom, eyes scanning over every little detail that makes the room his. The decorations on the wall are ones that Jungwoo had gotten, paper borders with cute cartoons of dogs on them that go around the bulletin boards, fun colored posters with the alphabet and simple words scattered along the walls. His desk is littered with gifts from students, most of them being something simple like a nice pencil holder and even a fancy pen that they had all gifted him for his birthday. Among the gifts are two photo frames, both of them holding the same style photos of him and Doyoung. One is a photo from their wedding, both of them in nice fitted suits, bright smiles on their faces and arms around each other, a picture that captures the moment in his memory perfectly. The other one is of him and Doyoung as well, a much more relaxed photo but one still as precious. 

There’s a knock on the door when Jungwoo leans down to grab his bag off the floor. Jungwoo peeks his head up, eyes meeting with Lucas, a fellow teacher and a friend of Jungwoo’s. “Hey, Jungwoo,” he says with a bright smile. 

“Hey, Lucas,” Jungwoo sighs out as he lifts his bag up, hooking it over his shoulder. 

“Welcome back,” the other says with a thumbs up, “I know it hasn’t been that long but man,” he sighs breathily, “We really missed you.” 

Jungwoo can’t help but chuckle, his shoes tapping against the linoleum floor of the classroom as he walks towards Lucas. “Don’t be dramatic.” 

“I’m serious!” the younger one exclaims, his eyes going wide with disbelief at Jungwoo’s words. “It’s not the same without you here.” 

Jungwoo bites down on his lip, his fingers curling around the strap of his bag, nails digging into the rough fabric. “Well,” he pauses, unsure of truly what to say, “Thanks, I missed you guys too.” Lucas’s smile returns when Jungwoo looks at him, the slightly taller one now back to beaming brightly at Jungwoo. “Speaking of the others, is Johnny in his office? I need to give him something.” 

“Oh yeah,” the other says with a nod, “I just came from there so he should still be there. Hey by the way,” Lucas starts as Jungwoo begins to walk out of the classroom into the small hallway, “Whenever you’re all settled in, we’d really like to come over and see your new house. Kun and Ten have been talking about how cute it looks and now that the weather is getting warmer we can do something fun.” 

“Maybe,” Jungwoo says softly, his chest rising and falling in a silent sigh. “There’s still,” he pauses, words disappearing into the air as he looks at Lucas, the other waiting patiently for the rest of Jungwoo’s response. “There’s still a lot to do so it’ll probably be a bit,” Jungwoo finally responds with. 

Lucas shrugs and lets his hand slide along Jungwoo’s shoulder. “Hey, as long as it takes, we just wanna come celebrate it.” 

Jungwoo’s lips twitch into a small smile, his eyes meeting with the other’s, his head nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “I’ll let you know.” 

Lucas’s hand slides off of him after a gracious pat against Jungwoo’s shoulder. The younger one waves goodbye to him and shortly after, Jungwoo is alone again, standing in the colorful hallway. His hand reaches down into his bag, pulling out the small white envelope that he’s had tucked away neatly for the entire day. His fingers grip it tightly as he peeks his head into Johnny’s office only to see it empty. Jungwoo looks around, wondering if there’s any sign of the other but the only thing that Jungwoo finds is silence. 

The envelope is set on Johnny’s desk, right on top of a collection of papers that take up most of the surface. Jungwoo stares at the envelope for several seconds, his fingers twitching in a desire to pick it back up and put it in his bag, wanting to suddenly take it all back. He doesn’t though, he _can’t_. So Jungwoo leaves it there, walking back out of the office and down the hallway until he reaches the front doors of the school, slowly pushing them open and letting the spring air wrap around his cheeks. 

Jungwoo doesn’t even get to the bus stop before his phone begins to ring, Johnny’s name popping up clear as the sky above him. Teeth sink down into his bottom lip before Jungwoo slides his phone back into his pocket, choosing to ignore it. 

Days come and go and Jungwoo does the same things over and over again, as if he’s relieving the same day each time he wakes up. The day starts waking up next to Doyoung, Jungwoo being the first one to wake up now, his eyes opening before the sun comes up, wrapping his arms around Doyoung until the other wakes. They have breakfast together, both sitting across from each other at their small two chair dining table that’s tucked against the window. Doyoung helps Jungwoo trim the flowers, the petals floating down into a glass vase that’s seated on the counter of their bathroom, slowly drying out more and more every morning. Doyoung is the first to go to work, the both of them sharing a long kiss and hug that lasts even longer before Doyoung finally leaves. Jungwoo does the same almost an hour later, arriving at the school promptly at nine. 

Jungwoo does what he needs to do at work, making lesson plans and teaching the things he needs to, not wanting to give the kids any worry about what’s going on. The other teachers know though, not that Jungwoo is going to die but that he’s leaving due to his own will. None of them are happy of course, all the teachers bombard him with a thousand questions at lunch and as Jungwoo leaves for the day, wanting to know why he’s leaving. Jungwoo wants to tell them, wants to tell them the true reason because he may never get to talk to them again, fully knowing that it could be his last time seeing them. He can’t manage to spit it out though, always simply answering that he needs to take a break and have some more time off. 

There’s a part of him that feels guilty for not telling them, his reasoning for not doing so being just the same as the reality of it. He doesn’t want to tell them, doesn’t want to burden them with the same thoughts that burden him. At the same time though, he wonders if it’s worse to not tell them, to simply disappear one day without a single word, without having said goodbye, without letting them create more memories together, knowing that it could be their last. He can’t though, no matter how hard Jungwoo tries, no matter how close the words come to being said, they always disappear, swallowing them right back in fear of facing the truth he already has accepted. 

Jungwoo is always the first one home. He comes home, has a small snack, not wanting to ruin his appetite for dinner, then gets a long shower until the water becomes uncomfortably cold. By that time Doyoung is coming in the door, a still wet haired Jungwoo coming downstairs just in time for the door to open. They share a long kiss and an even longer hug when Doyoung sets his bag down. They talk about their day quietly, both of them lingering in each other’s arms as if they’re afraid to let go. Dinner is always simple, Jungwoo helping the best he can while Doyoung does most of the work. They sit at the small two chair dining table that’s pushed up against the window, chatting more about their day until all their food is gone. 

They end up on the couch, their bodies pressed together, Jungwoo’s shoulder resting in the space against Doyoung’s armpit. They have one of their favorite movies on, one that they saw on their second date together, both of them having met each other at the movies one night back when they were still in college. It’s a movie that the two of them can watch a thousand times and not get sick of it because of the memories that are connected with it. A movie that neither of them have to truly pay attention to, their eyes being on each other more than the TV. 

Jungwoo is the one to press his lips against Doyoung’s. Doyoung is the one to deepen it as the minutes go by, his tongue pushing against Jungwoo’s lips gently. The younger one lets him in eagerly, his body deflating in a content sigh, happy to be connected with Doyoung like this. It’s been a while since they’ve done anything other than gentle kisses, their minds being too preoccupied to be worried about anything more. Now though, Jungwoo realizes how much he’s missed it, how he’s missed connecting with his husband in this way and it doesn’t take much for his body to get worked up. 

Their foreheads press together, eyes staring into one another as Jungwoo slides on Doyoung’s lap, pushing the other one further against the couch. Hands move along Jungwoo’s thighs until they reach his hips, holding onto them tightly. “Are you sure?” Doyoung whispers, his thumbs brushing against Jungwoo’s hip, his fingers gripping the sweatpants that fit snugly against Jungwoo’s small hips. 

Jungwoo nods his head, his teeth sinking down into his bottom lip as he spreads his legs slightly, just enough to push his hips down against Doyoung’s. It’s easy to feel the other’s hardness, them both being in nothing more than sweatpants. Their lips meet again in a more heated kiss. Jungwoo’s hands come up to cup at Doyoung’s cheeks, tilting his head up to kiss him even deeper as he rolls his hips down against him. Doyoung’s hand slides to the front of Jungwoo’s sweatpants, dipping past the fabric with ease. His hand wraps around Jungwoo’s cock, making Jungwoo gasp out due to the sudden feeling. Doyoung’s hand doesn’t last long in his pants, giving Jungwoo’s cock a few gentle pumps before he pulls away, leaving Jungwoo sighing in disappointment. 

A hand taps against Jungwoo’s thigh, quietly telling him to get up. Jungwoo does as he’s told, sliding up and off Doyoung to allow the other to push up off the couch. Doyoung is the one to grab Jungwoo’s hand, leading him upstairs and into their bedroom. Doyoung takes his time pampering Jungwoo, leaving a kiss on nearly every inch of his body, something that leaves Jungwoo aching and whispering to Doyoung that he needs him. It’s softer than previous times, not rough in any way. Jungwoo is laid out underneath Doyoung as he pushes in, his legs hooked around his waist. The feeling makes Jungwoo’s lips part in a gasp, his chest rising as much as it can as he sucks in a breath, it being much longer than usual since they were like this. 

There isn’t any playfulness as there normally is. There’s no filthy words coming out from Doyoung, none from Jungwoo either. It’s mostly quiet save for their moans and whimpers. It doesn’t feel anything other than wonderful, it feels incredible, it makes all of Jungwoo feel like he’s on fire with pleasure. His hands reach for Doyoung’s as he feels a pressure building in his stomach, their fingers intertwining just in time for him to orgasm. Doyoung leans down and captures Jungwoo’s lips, silencing his moan, his hands tightening around Jungwoo’s. Doyoung cums only seconds later, giving Jungwoo a few rougher thrusts before he feels Doyoung tense up against him and then a warmth in him that fills him up wonderfully. 

There’s a rush of emotions that hit Jungwoo as Doyoung pulls his lips away from his. A rush of emotions that hits him quickly as Doyoung presses his forehead against his and their eyes meet. Jungwoo feels his eyes begin to swell with tears, his vision becoming blurry quickly until the tears begin to spill over. Doyoung notices easily and his hands wiggle out of Jungwoo’s grasp, fingers swiping the tears away. Slowly, Doyoung’s hand cups at Jungwoo’s cheek, his thumb continuing to wipe the tears that stream down Jungwoo’s skin. 

“I don’t want to die,” Jungwoo whispers out the best he can, “I don’t want to die,” he says shakily, a sob bubbling up in his throat until it pushes past his lips, his body twitching as he lets it go. 

“I know,” is what Doyoung says back to him so quietly that Jungwoo barely hears it through his cries. 

“I don’t want to be without you,” Jungwoo cries out, his arms wrapping around Doyoung’s shoulders, pulling him down into a hug, feeling Doyoung’s hand move away from his face. “I don’t want to die.” 

Doyoung is quiet as he slips his arms under Jungwoo, his hands pressing against his back as they lay together, Jungwoo’s sobs filling the room. It’s the first time that Jungwoo has expressed his fear of dying, the first time he’s verbally announcing what’s been in his head for the last few weeks. It’s the first time he’s letting those thoughts overtake him, leaving him to do nothing other than cry, to finally accept his fate, something he’s been attempting to push away. Doyoung is quiet but Jungwoo can feel the wetness beginning to soak against his shoulder where Doyoung rests his head. He can feel the way Doyoung’s rises and falls shakily and the sniffles that tickle his skin. 

Doyoung has been strong, he’s tried his best to not let Jungwoo see him upset. Nights where Jungwoo would wake up to find Doyoung out of bed, the soft sounds of crying coming from the bathroom, leaving Jungwoo to lay in bed, pressing his lips together so tightly to try and keep his own sobs from coming out. Mornings where Jungwoo shuffles out of the bedroom to see Doyoung busy cooking breakfast, his eyes puffy and red, his cheerful greeting and smiles trying to distract Jungwoo from the truth. Times where he sees Doyoung’s eyes tearing up as they say their goodbye’s in the morning, Doyoung quickly clearing his throat and telling Jungwoo he’ll text him later. 

The more time passes as they lay there though, the more Doyoung lets go, allowing his sobs to pour out into the room, mixing in with Jungwoo’s. “It’s not fair,” Doyoung says, his fingers curling up against Jungwoo’s back, “none of this is fair.” 

Jungwoo shakes his head quickly, his arms tightening around Doyoung as he feels his chest quiver in a rush of sobs that have him squeezing his eyes together, pushing the tears out from them. “It’s not,” Jungwoo responds shakily, his head tilting down to press against Doyoung’s shoulder. 

None of it is fair, they’re both well aware, all of it being just a sick twist of misfortune. There’s no reason for the illness to come, no cause, nothing that Jungwoo did wrong. There’s no cure either and some cases last only a week and some years with only moments notice before the flowers overtake them. That’s the part that tears Jungwoo up the most, the fact that he doesn’t know how much longer he has. He doesn’t know if he’ll make it a year or two or only until tomorrow. There’s a conflict in him whether to live each day as if nothing is happening or live cautiously doing what he wants his last memories to be. 

He had dreams, he had goals, he had plans, all which he doesn’t know if they’ll ever get to happen. Him and Doyoung had their next few years planned out, all written down in their little journal they started when they got engaged, a bucket list of sorts. They had crossed off two already; getting married and moving into a home together. There were so many more on that list, so many that Jungwoo was looking forward to. They wanted to travel the world together, seeing the places they had always wanted to go. They wanted to start a family, one of the reasons they picked a home with two bedrooms. They wanted little things like having a housewarming party and being able to hold proper parties in general now that they have a home instead of a little apartment. Jungwoo wanted to move up in his job, eager to take over an administration role eventually and Doyoung had hopes of opening up his own business, a quaint little cafe in town where they both could work at together, a business they hoped to pass down to their children eventually. 

All of that will be stripped away from Jungwoo. They won’t get to do any of those things together most likely and even if they do, Jungwoo would be too scared to start them, not wanting to get his hopes up of fulfilling his dreams only to die shortly after. All he feels as though he can do is take each day with caution, returning home to be in Doyoung’s arms, the only place he feels safe, the only person that knows his fate. 

Doyoung eventually pulls away, fully pulling out of Jungwoo despite it most likely being nearly an hour since they’ve finished. They don’t get out of bed to shower like they usually do. The only thing they do is wrap their arms around each other again and lie against each other. Doyoung runs his hands up and down Jungwoo’s side, fingers tickling his skin gently, just enough to make his skin rise with goosebumps. There are moments where Jungwoo begins to cry again, not trying to stop it as the tears slide from his face. Moments where Doyoung’s fingers play with Jungwoo’s, their wedding rings bumping together. Moments where Doyoung lets his hand linger on Jungwoo’s stomach and it makes Jungwoo bury his face against his shoulder, his sobs being muffled by Doyoung’s skin. 

They fall asleep after what feels like forever of them laying in silence, both taking turns sniffling and wiping each other’s tears. Jungwoo isn’t asleep for long before he’s awoken by a familiar pain. This time, it’s not one but two flowers that push out from his skin. One comes from his shoulder and the other his chest, right above his heart. 

Jungwoo spends his free days outside now that summer has come. He spends all morning outside, tending to his bustling garden that provides them with fresh herbs and vegetables. He’ll set the flowers he’s picked from the line of them in front of their house into the vase they have on their dining room table, taking his time to trim and arrange them nicely. He straightens up the house, putting things back where they belong, dusting the surfaces and cleaning the windows. Jungwoo takes naps in the sunroom, his bangs fluttering due to the fan on above him as he sleeps, letting the warmth of the sun lull him to sleep. 

Doyoung returns home earlier these days, the door unlocking just after three, normally waking Jungwoo up from his naps with a kiss on his forehead. They catch up on their day together as they sit at the small two chair dining room table that’s pressed against the window, both of them with fresh fruit in their hands and smiles on their faces. Doyoung helps Jungwoo trim the flowers that have sprouted from him, there now being almost a dozen along his skin, each one a delicate white color. Their vase is almost full, the petals at the bottom having shriveled up and the ones at the top as fresh as can be. 

They normally spend their nights in, sitting in the sunroom enjoying dinner and having wine as they laugh about pointless things, both of them wanting to start thinking of the happy things. Thinking of old memories of themselves, the good moments they shared together instead of the ones they’ll never have. They can’t change the outcome, both of them have come to terms with it, knowing that Jungwoo’s time is coming faster than they want. Doyoung doesn’t want to leave Jungwoo with bad memories though, whispering to him one particularly bad night, telling Jungwoo that he wants to remember him being happy, he wants to give him the best he can before he goes, a promise he made to him when they got married. 

Instead of staying in though, they decide to spend the evening outside, enjoying the cool summer night. Jungwoo runs around the yard, giggling and laughing as Doyoung chases him around, the feeling of being playful and young running through him. Jungwoo runs and runs until they reach the flower fields that sit behind their house. It’s full of all different types of flowers, ones that tickle against Jungwoo’s ankles as he walks. Doyoung is close behind, his hand reaching out to grab onto Jungwoo’s as they carefully wade through the wiggling stalks of white flowers. 

It’s the first time they’ve really gone on into the field since they’ve officially moved in. It’s larger than Jungwoo thought, the flowers seeming to go on forever, the field bare of anything else. The wind blows gently around them, making their hair flutter along with the flowers, the petals brushing up against Jungwoo’s skin each time the wind comes. The sun is setting as well, the horizon painted with the prettiest colors. The colors make Doyoung look stunning, the way the setting sun hits his face, his skin slightly tanned due to the amount they’ve been outside and the sun compliments it beautifully. 

Doyoung tugs on Jungwoo’s hand, pulling him closer until their bodies meet and their lips press together in a kiss. His free hand comes up, cupping at Jungwoo’s cheek as their heads tilt to allow them to kiss deeper, it still being as soft and as gentle as the flowers around them. Jungwoo doesn’t know how long they’ve been standing there, pulling away only to come back together in another kiss. He doesn’t care how long they’ve been there either, Jungwoo wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever, being in Doyoung’s arms and surrounded by the very thing that’s killing him. 

Time does start to tick again and Jungwoo pulls away slowly, giving Doyoung a shy smile as their eyes meet. The smile fades away when Jungwoo begins to feel a pressure in his chest. It’s much different than one that comes with a cry. It has Jungwoo’s brows furrowing and his hand coming up to cover at his mouth as he coughs, attempting to rid himself of the pressure. It doesn’t help and it only begins to become worse. Doyoung’s hands reach forward, his hands grabbing at Jungwoo’s shoulders, his face contorting with concern. 

Jungwoo shakes his head quickly, his eyes quickly filling with tears as he realizes what’s happening. Doyoung is the same, his lips quivering together as he watches Jungwoo, both of them well aware of what’s going on. “Doyoung,” Jungwoo cries out, tears sliding down onto his cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” Doyoung whispers out shakily with a nod, “It’s okay,” he repeats, “Everything’s going to be okay.” 

Jungwoo squeezes his eyes shut both due to the pain and the words from his husband. Jungwoo shakes his head quickly, sobs beginning to pour out of his mouth, his whole body twitching and jerking with cries. “I can’t,” Jungwoo says loudly, his voice broken with hiccups and sniffles, “I don’t want to go.” 

Arms wrap around Jungwoo as the pain begins to become too much for him, his knees starting to knock together, becoming weak. The pressure in his chest is tight, making Jungwoo take deep breaths to try and get a proper one. His knees hit the ground, the flowers greeting him as he joins them. Doyoung keeps his arms around him as he too kneels down, holding Jungwoo up the best he can. 

Jungwoo grabs Doyoung’s hand, their fingers sliding together and it’s when Jungwoo sees Doyoung begin to break. His cheeks shimmer with tears as he holds Jungwoo’s hand against his chest, their fingers together and their wedding rings bumping together. Jungwoo’s face scrunches together as he tries to hold back a wave of cries. 

“It’s okay,” Doyoung says again, his own voice broken with sobs, “It’s okay,” he repeats as if saying it is going to fix things. “I’m here,” he hiccups, his lips pressing together tightly and he swallows thickly. “You did good,” Doyoung continues, “You did so good, Jungwoo.” Jungwoo nods his head, his eyes squinting as he stares at his husband through teary eyes. “Thank you,” Doyoung says more clearly, clearing his throat as he sucks in a shaky breath, “Thank you for everything.” 

Jungwoo squeezes his eyes shut as the pain grows in his chest, enough to cause more sobs to push past his lips. His free hand comings up to press against his chest and he feels a bump pushing against his shirt. He shakes his head again, his fingers curling against the fabric of his top, quietly wishing, silently hoping, that this is still just a dream, that he’s completely fine and laying in bed and that he’ll wake up soon. 

Doyoung’s hand pushes up his shirt and it’s then when Jungwoo sees how large the bump is coming from his chest. It’s nearly as big as his palm, triple, quadruple the size of all the others. The pain is similar but different as well, it coming from deeper within him rather than on the surface. It’s when he sees the bump twitch, he knows that he’s not dreaming. When he feels Doyoung’s tears hit against his skin, he knows this is real and there’s nothing he can do. 

“I love you,” Jungwoo manages to get out, his eyes meeting Doyoung’s. The other nods his head quickly, his hand tightening around Jungwoo’s. 

“I love you too,” Doyoung says softly, “I always will. If that’s the only thing you can remember, remember that, okay? Remember that I love you.” 

The last thing that Jungwoo remembers is hearing Doyoung say his name. It’s clear as day, as if it was being said from inside him rather than around him. The last thing he pushes past his lips is a thanks, a simple _‘Thank you’_ for the same reasons that he knows Doyoung said it to him. 

The final flower isn’t a single flower at all. Instead, it’s a cluster of them, a bouquet of sorts that sprouts right from Jungwoo’s heart. It’s the same colors as the flowers that Jungwoo lays in, his body being held up by Doyoung. 

The final flowers bloom in the evening of a summer day as the sun begins to set.

**Author's Note:**

> { [twt](https://twitter.com/buttercupwoo) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/wooberry) }


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